I received a $5,000 transfer from my husband's company's accounting department and happily assumed it was my year-end bonus. Unexpectedly, the accountant called and ordered me: "That money is for the legal wife, not you. Hurry up and return it the same way it came." I was confused and stunned. She thought I didn't want to return it, and her tone toughened: "If you don't return it and the legal wife finds out, you'll be in big trouble!" My husband is known to everyone as a family-oriented good man. Even his salary card at work is registered in my name. His monthly salary of $500 is deposited into my account without a penny missing. I feigned calmness and asked: "Does he give the legal wife $5,000 every month?" The accountant replied contemptuously: "Yes. I think as a mistress, Mr. Vance giving you $500 a month is already generous enough. You shouldn't compare yourself to the legal wife." I asked again: "How many years has he been giving it?" The accountant grew somewhat impatient: "Seven years. Hurry up and return the money." My heart twisted in pain as I realized my good husband had been lavishly keeping a mistress on the outside. And my label was... the mistress. The accountant urged me again. I replied: "I will handle it, thank you." ... The accountant, thinking I had agreed to return the money, breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone. I braved the cold wind all the way to the company where Arthur had worked for 7 years. Throughout the journey, I felt as if I had fallen into an ice cellar. Reviewing every detail of our 15-year marriage, I still couldn't find a single moment when he could have cheated. Over the years, no matter how late it was, he never spent the night away from home. Even if it was 2 AM, he would rush back. He would even save the cardboard boxes from every package we opened to sell. He wore his underwear until there were holes, patching them up for another three years, never willing to throw them away. How could he be willing to spend a fortune to keep a mistress? It wasn't just him living frugally; all these years, the whole family lived in poverty. Out of his $500 monthly salary, $100 went to my mother-in-law's medical bills. $50 for rent, $20 for his pocket money, and $50 for gas. Leaving only $280 every month. This $280 covered the living expenses for a family of four, utilities, and our daughter's school fees. We even had to save some for occasional social obligations. So, for our family's meals, I always went to the market just before it closed to buy the cheapest leftover scraps. We lived in the cheapest house in the urban village. Day after day, we lived on meager meals, stretching every penny. To save money, he even quit smoking and drove for Uber after work. My husband and I were known among our neighbors as a thrifty, hardworking couple. I never expected all this to be an illusion. I never expected he would brazenly register both mine and the mistress's bank cards with his company's accounting department. I still couldn't figure it out. Such a frugal person, even when his mother had mobility issues due to a stroke. When I suggested buying a $20 used wheelchair for her to use temporarily, he agonized over it and couldn't bear to spend the money. Yet he was so generous as to keep a lover! Entering the lobby of his company, a pretty 20-year-old receptionist asked politely: "Who are you looking for?" "Arthur Vance." "Do you have an appointment?" My heart skipped a beat, remembering the accountant calling Arthur "Mr. Vance." I thought perhaps he had been promoted. "Please tell him I am Chloe Hastings." The young receptionist remained polite: "I'm sorry, ma'am, our boss is out right now and not in the company. Why don't you give the boss a call?" I was shocked as if struck by lightning. Boss? This company was started by Arthur? And I was completely in the dark. [Chapter 2] I pretended to be calm and peeked inside. The company wasn't big, with about 30 employees. It was a typical small business. There was a cheap bubble tea shop downstairs from his company. I spent 40 cents on a lemonade and sat by the window. Before all this, spending 40 cents on a lemonade would have made my heart ache for a long time. Because that 40 cents was enough for a light dinner for our family of four. Enough for my daughter to buy two pairs of socks, or even a pretty hair clip from the dollar store. I took a sip of the sweet and sour lemonade, enduring my breaking heart, and downloaded a corporate registry app. I entered Arthur's company name, and the information popped up. He was the legal representative, the executive director, and a board member. Registered 7 years ago, with a registered capital of $20,000, an e-commerce company. That was the very day he hugged me in ecstasy, kissing my face repeatedly and saying: "Honey, I found a job paying $500 a month! Our life is going to get better and better!" I believed it then too. Before Arthur got this job, lacking a degree, he worked as a warehouse keeper at his previous company. His salary was around $300 to $400. Back then, we worked at the same company. I was a stocker, and he was a warehouse keeper. Two people from the bottom rung, sparked a romance, and became husband and wife. After our daughter was born, because my mother-in-law was in poor health and couldn't help with the baby, I had to quit my job to take care of her. Later, my mother-in-law's stroke worsened, to the point where she was bedridden long-term. I managed everything inside and outside the house. Many times, when I was so tired I couldn't stand straight, lying in bed pounding my aching shoulders, Arthur would guiltily massage me and say: "Honey, you've worked so hard." Thinking back now, it's incredibly ironic! When my lemonade was half finished, I finally saw Arthur get out of a car from the window. He was wearing a decent suit, completely different from the cheap casual clothes he left the house in this morning. He walked around to the other side of the car and opened the rear door. A woman stepped out—high heels, a body-hugging dress, long straight black hair, and exquisite makeup. Her skin was tender and white, looking to be in her 20s. Arthur held her hand, their fingers intertwined, as they walked into the company. Seeing this with my own eyes, my heart felt like it was split in two, my chest suffocating. Before this moment, I had imagined a scene of catching them in the act, making a furious scene, causing them both complete humiliation. But at this moment, I felt it was utterly pointless. My phone vibrated right then, a message from my daughter: "Mom, why aren't you here yet? My stomach is so empty." My reason was pulled back. Thinking of my daughter, my tears fell like a broken dam onto the cracked screen of my phone. My middle school daughter didn't board at school, nor did she eat there. I cooked and delivered her meals at noon and in the afternoon, and picked her up to go home at 9:30 PM. Braving wind and rain, just to save $50 a month on food and boarding. Yet her father couldn't even bear to spend $50 on his own biological daughter. But spent $5,000 to keep a lover. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I immediately went online and ordered braised ribs, shredded potatoes, and dry-pot cabbage for my daughter, having a courier deliver it to her school. That saying online is true: the money you can't bear to spend, someone else will gladly spend for you! From now on, I will not wrong myself or my daughter. I waited downstairs. Waiting for Arthur and that woman to come out, I followed their car. I followed them all the way to a high-end residential complex. Less than half an hour later, a boy of about 6 years old appeared between them. I watched him call Arthur: Dad. So, he not only had a home outside, but also a son. This boy, whose features were 70% similar to his, was like a sharp sword gouging my heart. [Chapter 3] When I gave birth to my daughter, I suffered an amniotic fluid embolism. By a stroke of incredible luck, the doctors managed to save me. That day, Arthur was scared out of his wits, signing numerous high-risk resuscitation consent forms. The nurses and doctors all said I had a good husband. Because that day, Arthur knelt and begged them: "Please save my wife, I don't want the child, please save her." "I'll call to sell the house right now, no matter how much it costs." He, who never believed in deities, knelt outside the resuscitation room that day, devoutly praying to every god. After I was saved, he held me and cried for a long time, still in shock. He kept telling me: "No more kids, no more. We just want this one daughter, that's enough." Even when our daughter was 7, and my father-in-law threatened suicide, demanding I must give the Vance family a boy, He fell out with his father over me, flipping the table, even if it meant cutting ties. He resolutely defended me, absolutely refusing to have a second child. He told relatives who pressured us countlessly: "Nothing is more important than my wife's life. I will never let my wife suffer the pain of childbirth again." Relatives all said he spoiled me too much and was so good to his wife. Looking back now, it's a complete joke. He didn't not want a son; he just secretly had one with someone else. I sat in a taxi, following their car all the way to a high-end restaurant. From a distance, I watched him order several delicate and expensive meat and vegetable dishes. Watched him considerately and carefully serve food to his son and lover, even feeding them. And this scene... even during the New Year, our family didn't eat this well. A month ago, my daughter had a craving and said to Arthur: "Dad, I want to go eat a skewer hotpot with my classmates." He told her: "If you rank first in your grade on the final exam, I'll reward you by letting you eat hotpot with your classmates." My daughter's grades were above average, so ranking first was difficult for her. A wave of bitterness washed over me. Suppressing my emotions, I contacted my nephew, a lawyer on my side of the family. While they were laughing and chatting through their meal, I told my nephew the specific situation. He replied: "Auntie, staying calm is the right move. Don't confront him yet, wait until we gather solid evidence." My nephew felt for me and said he would handle this. He would investigate. When my daughter finished her evening study hall, I rushed to the school to pick her up. In the dark, I rode the electric bike I'd had for 7 years, its chain rusting, carrying my daughter home. Along the way, she chattered non-stop, like a happy little bird. Because today she finally got to eat the delicious takeout she had dreamed of. She asked me: "Mom, did you win the lottery today, ordering all this good food for me?" I feigned happiness, not wanting her to know about the family's mess during her happiest moment. "Yeah, I bought a 20-cent lottery ticket and won $20. Ordered you takeout, and saved a little bit for you to go eat skewer hotpot with your classmates." My daughter was even happier, hugging my waist tightly and saying: "I won't go with my classmates. I'll go with you, so you can experience eating out too." [Chapter 4] When we got home, Arthur wasn't back yet. My bedridden mother-in-law complained endlessly, grumbling that I was out for so long and didn't make dinner, leaving her hungry. My daughter also casually mentioned she was hungry. I hurried to the kitchen to cook noodles. Just as I finished making a simple tomato and egg noodle soup, Arthur returned. He had changed back into the faded casual clothes he left with in the morning. He walked over to me as usual and said: "Eating noodles, huh." He rubbed his stomach and said: "I drove for Uber for a while and ate a steamed bun to fill my stomach. Really getting older, it still hasn't digested." His underlying meaning was that he wasn't eating. Basically, whenever he came back late, he would use the excuse of an undigested steamed bun to skip dinner. Every time, my heart would ache for him eating plain steamed buns with no nutrition. I never imagined he had actually eaten delicacies outside before coming home. I feigned calmness and asked him to carry a bowl of noodles: "Take this to Mom." He smiled and took it, and as usual, smiled and said to me: "My wife is so virtuous." That sentence stabbed my heart like a vicious knife. He went into my mother-in-law's room. My mother-in-law complained to him about dinner being late and me not giving her a good attitude. He mediated and spoke up for me. As I passed my mother-in-law's room, I suddenly heard her lower her voice: "You're capable, you're a big boss now, why don't you just hire a nanny for me." "What use is she to you? She won't even give you a son. Well, you don't need her to anymore, I already have a big grandson." "I can't just let my big grandson stay off the family register forever, how will I face your father in the future!" So she had known about Arthur having an illegitimate child outside all along. My blood ran cold, and the anger of being played for a fool surged through my body. When Arthur went back to the room to sleep, I said to him: "I plan to start working." His hand pulling the blanket paused, looking at me: "What about our daughter?" "She'll board at school." He asked again: "What about Mom?" I pinched my palms, pretending to be calm: "You figure it out. Anyway, I plan to start working." He looked incredulous, tried to persuade me for a good while, and seeing I was determined, settled for the next best thing: "How about this, I'll find you a part-time job. That way you have a job, but it won't interfere with taking care of Mom and our daughter." A cold sneer rose in my heart. He actually still delusionally thought I would serve his mom like a nanny! After he fell asleep, I secretly unlocked his phone. As I scrolled, my hands shook with fear. This shocking secret completely shattered my understanding of Arthur. The next day, he said he found me a part-time job. He took me to a new residential complex. He told me: "Taking care of people is your specialty. A friend introduced this; their family needs a live-out nanny." "You just cook lunch and dinner, and clean up. The salary is $200." While talking, I unexpectedly saw a family photo of this household. Only then did I realize this was the mistress's parents' home. He actually wanted me to serve the mistress's parents. I asked Arthur: "In your heart, am I only fit to serve people? Am I a servant, is that it?" While he was stunned and hadn't had time to answer, I gave him a cold look and left. He chased after me, offering a few perfunctory coaxing words, thinking I would brush off these "small things" like before. That night, after he fell asleep, I secretly saw on his phone that his company was hosting an annual gala tomorrow. Looking at the various pieces of evidence my nephew sent me, after a night of careful consideration, I decided to deliver a fatal blow to them tomorrow. In the morning, Arthur left the house as usual. I followed him all the way to the five-star hotel he had booked for the annual gala. Timing it perfectly, I silently called the police. Just as Arthur held that woman's hand and went on stage to speak, while the crowd cheered that they were the best boss and boss's wife, The police walked up to Arthur with gleaming silver handcuffs: "Are you Arthur Vance?" Looking at the uniformed police, Arthur was confused: "Yes." "Your wife reported you for suspected involvement in several illegal fraud operations. We are lawfully arresting you for investigation." Arthur was struck dumb as if by a thunderbolt. When he saw me walking forward unhurriedly, his face turned deathly pale. [Chapter 5] The employees below the stage whispered in shock: "Isn't the boss's wife right there on stage?" "What's going on here?" "Yeah, the boss and his wife have such a good relationship, how could she call the police on him?" The woman on stage, Maya Sullivan, was shocked and angry, and said to the police: "Nonsense! How could I report my own husband?" "Besides, my husband is a good, law-abiding citizen. He's never done anything bad." "You guys must have made a mistake!" "Did you arrest someone with the same name by mistake?" She kept rambling on, completely missing Arthur's gaze turning deathly pale when he looked at me. The police looked at her suspiciously: "You are Arthur Vance's wife?" "Yes! I am his wife!" A very firm and resonant answer. The police turned their gaze to me as I walked over, lifting their chins slightly: "Then who is she?" Maya looked toward me. The color drained from her face, and her pupils dilated. I walked right up to her. The murmurs from the audience boiled up again like hot water. "Oh my god, so the real boss's wife is someone else." "But she doesn't look like a match for the boss at all, she looks much older than him." "Is what she reported true? Did our boss really break the law?" Yes, compared to Maya, she looked more like the boss's wife. Her skin was soft and delicate, even her hands were manicured, as tender as a peeled egg. She wore a designer gown, and her face was covered in high-end cosmetics. While I was bare-faced, wearing cheap, washed-out clothes from discount sites. My hands were rough and dry. These marks of years of dedication to my family had become the standard by which outsiders judged who looked more like the boss's wife. I slowly spoke: "Say it again. Are you Arthur's wife?" Maya's embarrassed flush reached her neck; her red lips moved, but she hesitated. Arthur shot me a look, signaling me to give him some face and stop making a scene. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it calmly. Don't make such a big joke." A bitter smile played on my lips, the hatred in my heart rising to my throat. I glared furiously at Arthur: "What makes you think we still have a chance to talk calmly?" "For our daughter's sake, stop messing around, okay? This is a serious matter, I could go to jail!" He used our daughter to pressure me. I had always taught my daughter to study hard, get into a good college, and preferably become a civil servant. Not to struggle at the bottom like me. So I had warned Arthur many times that he must be law-abiding, not even a DUI. To ensure that if our daughter wanted to take the civil service exam later, our family wouldn't have a stain on its record. He always knew what my weakness was. I laughed through gritted teeth and roared at him: "You have the least right to mention our daughter to me!" "Did you think of our daughter when you were cheating?" "When you were enjoying wealth and luxury, why didn't you think of your daughter who couldn't even afford skewer hotpot?" "When you did those unconscionable, illegal things, why didn't you think of your wife and child at home?" "Arthur! Put your hand on your heart and tell me, did you ever care about your daughter, your family!" As I roared, the tears from the corners of my eyes fell non-stop like broken pearls. Not for him. Just for the unworthiness of my years of dedication. He froze. Knowing he was in the wrong, he avoided my burning gaze and didn't utter another word. He was taken away by the police.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394562", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel